


A Truth Untold

by Stellophia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: And A Spinal Surgery For That Matter, Angst, Angst With A Not Utterly Miserable Ending TBH, Angst and Feels, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Canon Compliant, Gen, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Infinity Gems, Into 3 Minutes, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki is a Good Bro (Marvel), Not A Fix-It, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), The Russos Can Go Fuck Themselves, The Tesseract (Marvel), This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is what happens, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Thor Needs a Hug (Marvel), When Canon Forces You to Throw a Movie's Worth of Character Development, Whump, i hate thanos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:48:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26028250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stellophia/pseuds/Stellophia
Summary: “Almighty Thanos,” he began finally, taking a step forward. “I, Loki —”When he’d looked into its Infinity minutes ago, the Tesseract hadsung to him:a song calm and soothing, a song tranquil and reassuring. A song that had told him that it would beall right.Remember who you are,the Tesseract had sung.He took another step, meeting Thanos’s cruel gaze as unhesitantly as he could. He was Loki, and he could do this. He would ensure Thanospaid.Can you hear me, Infinity?he thought,I know who I am.Or: my completely canon-compliant but significantly different take on Loki's "death" scene in Infinity War.
Relationships: Loki & Thanos (Marvel), Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 116





	A Truth Untold

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You Keep Me Alive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25955443) by [silentwhisper002](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentwhisper002/pseuds/silentwhisper002). 



“If I might interject.”

It was a stupid plan. One, Loki knew, having barely _any_ , if at all, chances of working out. It was practically a suicide charge; no, it was _exactly_ that, one that might not even work. The magics he was relying on were _ancient_ , obscure, and _highly_ taboo. It _was_ madness.

It was madness, but he _knew_ it needed to be done. 

_It’ll be all right,_ the Tesseract’s song echoed behind him, assuring him, prodding him gently to continue forward. _It’ll be all right._

“If you’re going to Earth, you might want a guide,” he declared, spreading his arms and flashing a stupid, cheeky grin. “I believe I have a bit of experience in that arena.” Every bone in his body shuddered, every muscle _screamed_ in phantom pain, screamed in memory of how they’d all been ripped apart as he’d _begged_ for it all to _end_ , as the mad Titan had only watched, a satisfied smile on his face.

 _No_ , he steeled himself, digging his nails into his palms hard enough to draw blood. It was too late to back out now.

“You consider failure experience?” Thanos taunted, as the rest of the Black Order fixed their steely gazes and weapons on him.

 _It was only_ your _failure, Thanos,_ he allowed himself to think defiantly, to pretend for a second that he’d ever been in control, that he was _now_ in control. _Your failure to tame_ chaos.

“I consider experience, experience,” he snapped back simply. It was too late to back out now. He’d have to carry through with his Hel-damned, terribly misbegotten plan.

The magics he was playing with here were taboo for a reason: it was bargaining with the _Norns themselves._ A curse of the Fates on whomever he wished in exchange for his life, in exchange for his soul. A blood sacrifice to doom the Titan’s mad endeavour.

Thanos narrowed his eyes.

These weren’t curses performed every day, to say the least. He _didn’t_ know if it would work. He didn’t even know if it _could_ work. His body ached, _begged_ to run, run, _run away_ , _away_ from that Titan who had _laughed_ as Loki was —

The tranquil song of the Tesseract still faintly echoed around him, calming him for an infinitesimal second, for an ephemeral eternity. Telling him it would _be all right._

“Almighty Thanos,” he began finally, taking a step forward. “I, Loki —”

When he’d looked into its Infinity minutes ago, the Tesseract had _sung to him_ : a song calm and soothing, a song tranquil and reassuring. A song that had told him that it would be _all right._

 _Remember who you are,_ the Tesseract had sung.

He took another step, meeting Thanos’s cruel gaze as unhesitantly as he could. He was Loki, and he could do this. He would ensure Thanos _paid_.

 _Can you hear me, Infinity?_ he thought, _I_ know _who I am._

He was Loki, he answered.

He was Loki, Skywalker, Shapeshifter, Silvertongue, Sorcerer, _Sorceress._

He was Loki, and he was a million different things.

“ —Prince of Asgard —”

He was Loki, First Mage of Asgard.

He was Loki, Second Prince of the Nine Realms.

He was Loki, newly-appointed Chancellor to King Thor.

He was Loki of Asgard, because for all _its_ sins against _him,_ for all _his_ sins against _it_ , Asgard had been _home_. 

Because despite a thousand years of ostracism, despite a thousand years of never quite having fit, despite all the hatred and the treason and the betrayal, the Asgardians _were_ his people.

If Asgard _truly_ died today, he chose to die _with_ them.

“ _—Odinson_ —” 

He was Loki Odinson, and he remembered the countless hours spent playing tafl with his father, he remembered the endless enthusiastic discussions on statecraft and strategy, he remembered his world shattering into a thousand pieces at a simple _yes_.

He was Loki Odinson, and for all of Odin’s infinite vices, he forgave his father.

She was Loki Friggasdottir, and she remembered the neverending joy and mirth of their times spent weaving or gardening, she remembered all the times she’d sought solace in her mother’s gentle arms, she remembered her mother’s bitter smile hiding her pain as her projection dissipated into oblivion.

She was Loki Friggasdottir, and for all her poisonous jabs, she begged for forgiveness.

Loki glanced towards Thor, chained and _writhing_ in the Maw’s telepathic grasp, his eyes saying what no words ever could. _I’m sorry, Brother,_ Loki thought as he bit his lip. _I’m truly sorry._

Would more time together have been too much to ask?

“ _I_ _assure you, Brother, the sun_ will _shine on us again_ ,” he’d told Thor. 

Not a lie, no. A misleading statement, perhaps.

Because _Thor,_ he knew, would leave this _ark_ alive. Thor, he knew, would leave this _arc_ triumphant. And that would be the Fates’ design. If ensuring that took Loki’s life, he decided, then so be it. His world in the balance, and yes, he _would_ bargain for one man. He would bargain for Thor over _anything_.

A dagger materialised in his hand. His left hand: the one he used for illusions; a silent signal to Thor that he was not betraying him.

He was Loki Thorsbrodir.

He was Loki Thorsbrodir, and towards Thor, he only _loved_.

He was Loki Thorsbrodir, and that single glance told him his love was reciprocated. That it had always been reciprocated.

That it would _forever_ be reciprocated.

Loki turned his gaze back to the Titan looming before him, and with every single drop of blood in his veins, with every single drop of seidr in his body, Loki _prayed._

“ — the rightful King of Jotunheim —”

He was Loki, spawn of Laufey and Farbauti, and sibling by blood of Byeliestr and Helblindi.

He was Loki, master statesman who had brought forth in four short years a solid peace between two eternally warring realms, who had brought forth in four short years an end to a millennium of hatred and bigotry.

He was Loki, who had crafted a masterful replica of the Casket of Ancient Winters to be kept in the Palace Vault, who had secretly returned to his wintry birthplace her long-lost frozen heart.

He was Loki, and the one thing he was _not_ , the one thing he’d _never_ been, was a monster.

“— And God of Mischief —”

He was Loki, God of Mischief, God of Lies, God of Trickery. He was Loki, God of Chaos, God of Malice, God of Evil.

He was Loki, a villain in countless tales, and a hero, he hoped, in a few.

“— do hereby pledge to you, my undying fidelity.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth, but that was no matter. Let that be Loki’s last lie.

This might not work, but _oh well,_ he’d died for less before.

The dagger was swung straight at Thanos’s throat and caught midair just as he’d expected it to be. 

“Undying?” the wretched being before him questioned, twisting his hand as the dagger fell from his hand and his bones _screamed_. “You should choose your words more carefully.”

A cruel sneer. A hand clasped around his throat. He was being lifted up into the air by this throat, and his throat was being crushed, crushed, _crushed_ —

Pain. 

_He will make you beg for something sweet as pain —_

The Power Stone’s very proximity _burned_ and it _hurt_ and he wanted to _scream_ and he _couldn’t scream_ and his vision was slowly going white, purple spots dancing around, and his bargain was _not working_ , it wasn’t _working_ , there was no _sign_ , and there was no air, and _no air_ and —

— And a faint echo of the Tesseract’s Infinite song.

Amidst the sheer searing, burning, _maddening_ pain, Loki stopped struggling, because, at that moment, he _knew._

He knew that _now_ the purple, looming figure before him would _never_ truly and permanently fulfil his cosmic goal.

With one last, desperate gasp of air, “You will... never.. be a God,” he told the Titan with all the certainty he could muster. He’d have added a smug smile if he could, but oh well. So much for that.

He knew that the purple, looming figure before him would _never_ truly and permanently fulfil his cosmic goal. And that the part he’d played had been crucial to Thanos’s eventual failure.

He knew that his bargain with the Fates _themselves_ had worked.

Thanos sneered. Loki, if he could have, would have _laughed_.

Snap.

His very being _screamed_ as the hand snapped his spine into two like some pathetic twig, but truth be told for once, he felt lighter than he’d felt in ages. For once, he felt _right_.

 _You can rest now,_ Infinity told him _. You’ve done well, you can rest now._

 _It had worked,_ he realized. It had _worked._ This was the end. 

This was the _end_. His part in this tale was _over_. This was the end, and they would _win_. This was the end, and he had played his part. He had played his part well. 

He was Loki, God of Stories, and he wouldn’t be forgotten.

He was Loki, and he had been _enough._

He had always been enough.

He was Loki, and in the end, it was all that mattered.

“No resurrections this time.”

Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps the third time truly _was_ the charm. Perhaps the Norns _still_ weren’t done with him, somehow. He knew not.

If this was truly the end, it was hardly a glorious one, hardly one worthy of Valhalla. He hoped he’d be spared a reunion with his sister, at least.

Whether he had ever been brave enough or noble enough for Valhalla, or cowardly enough or evil enough for Hel, he knew not. Whether his blood sacrifice would place him somewhere else entirely, he knew not. But there was one thing he did know.

He knew that he had _never_ been _insignificant_.

He knew that he would not survive Thanos, but the world would. _Thor_ would.

His _legacy_ would. 

His _story_ would, even if its end would forever hide a truth untold. 

_A fitting end,_ he supposed, as he felt himself slipping away, _shrouded in deception like the rest of his tale._

He was Loki, and his chapter in this cosmic saga was coming to an end. 

He was Loki, and he was, for once, at peace.

So, exhaling a final time, he let go.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> It’s been two years, and I’m still not over it. I will possibly never be over it. Loki’s “death” scene, when I first saw it, felt like a joke, and I waited and waited and waited, but the punch line never came ( _not yet,_ I tell myself, _Loki isn’t dead. We all know better_ ).
> 
> Everybody has written a version of this scene. Here’s mine. I’m not sorry.
> 
> Not gonna lie, I hated writing the whole "Odinson" part, but *sighs* c a n o n.
> 
> Also yeah, this was less of an "Inspired by" thing and more of a "You've punished me with Loki angst, now I must punish myself with Loki angst" thing. If that makes sense. Also, just to be clear, I still hate you for that fic, Angie (not really tho).
> 
> There may or may not be a sequel in the works, because I like torturing myself and writing angst is a wonderful way to procrastinate.
> 
> :D


End file.
